


Apology

by CasusFere



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: anger management issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasusFere/pseuds/CasusFere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Onslaught hates having to apologize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apology

  
Onslaught _hated_ being wrong. He glared down at the reports coming in. It wasn’t that the reports themselves were bad - on the contrary, the mission was looking like a complete success, far better than he had originally projected.

That was the problem - it wasn’t his plan that won the field. As much as it galled him to admit it, if Vortex hadn’t disobeyed orders, he would likely be ordering a retreat right now. At the edge of his vision, Swindle leaned forward to scan through the data, then turned a significant look over his shoulder. Onslaught didn’t need to glance back; Vortex hadn’t moved from where he’d slumped against the wall, battered and radiating sullen anger.

Onslaught’s fists clenched, and he waited for Swindle to open his mouth, make some sort of smart-aft comment, but he kept quiet. After all, he’d _seen_ the beating Vortex had received for his... deviation. Swindle didn’t seem inclined to risk adding his energon to the splatters on the floor and wall.

The comm light flashed on the console, and Onslaught jabbed the button harder than necessary.

“Onslaught,” Shockwave said, image flickering then stabilizing on the main screen. “Congratulations on the quick victory.”

Behind his battlemask, Onslaught scowled. “Thank you, sir,” he said, tone carefully neutral. Vortex made a noise that might have been a snort, or might have just been leaking fluid in his intakes.

“Megatron will hear of your success here,” Shockwave continued, single optic piercing despite the distance that separated them, making Onslaught wonder for a brief moment if he somehow knew the truth. But... no. Not possible.

“Thank you, sir,” he said again, but his attention was on the hiss of the door and the uneven growl of Vortex’s engine as he stalked out.

x-x-x

Rotors twitched when Onslaught stepped through the doorway, tense frame betraying the scowl that the battlemask hid. Vortex turned and headed for the opposite door.

“Vortex,” Onslaught said sharply. “Stop.”

Habit made the helicopter hesitate, allowing Onslaught to cross the distance and grab the rotor hub before he could go anywhere. “What?” Vortex demanded, sullen but trapped.

“I want to talk to you,” Onslaught said, lowering his voice.

“So talk.” Vortex crossed his arms, glaring over his shoulder.

“In private.”

The rotors twitched. “Fine.”

Onslaught let go of the rotor assembly and motioned for Vortex to lead the way. He half-expected the helicopter to lambaste him soon as soon as the office door shut behind them, but Vortex merely folded his arms, leaning against the desk and watching him with the same look Onslaught had seen him use on thousands of prisoners, like he was debating which part to rip off first. Onslaught refused to react.

“You made the correct decision,” Onslaught started, forcing his hands to stay still.

“Nice of you to join the rest o’ the universe,” Vortex growled. “Everyone figured that out before it happened but you. And Shockwave, of course.”

“Frag it, Vortex-” Onslaught stopped, regaining control of his temper. “I’m trying to tell you-”

“Oh, go frag yourself,” Vortex snarled, pushing off the desk. “And take your patronizing slag with you.” He tried to push past Onslaught to the door, but Onslaught blocked him.

“I’m trying to apologize.” Onslaught pushed the smaller mech back.

“And _I_ don’t care!” Vortex caught his balance and lashed out, his fist impacting Onslaught’s battlemask with a _crunch._ Rocking with the force of the blow, Onslaught responded with a backhand, sending the helicopter crashing into the desk. He blocked a kick, grabbing Vortex and slamming him into the wall, pinning him in place with his greater mass.

“I’m _sorry,_ ” Onslaught growled, voice low. He could feel something warm trickling down his face where the upper edge of the battlemask had cut into the plating. “I was wrong. Alright? I was wrong.” He loosened his grip, easing back from Vortex, on guard against another attack.

Vortex didn’t move, glaring sullenly from where he was slumped against the wall. “I’m not stupid, Onslaught. This ain’t my first campaign, and I’ve been in places of a fraggin’ lot more responsibility.”

“I know,” Onslaught said. The helicopter had - Onslaught wasn’t in the practice of picking untried soldiers for elite units. But brilliant as Vortex was, he’d been squandering his skills, playing at soldier and using his talents for nothing more than petty sadistic amusements while commander after commander underestimated his abilities. Onslaught knew better, and he was kicking himself for forgetting it. “I should have listened to you.”

“Fraggin’ right you should have,” Vortex grumbled, crossing his arms.

Onslaught smiled slightly as the helicopter’s posture shifted from sullen to sulky. “I suppose this means I need to make it up to you,” he said softly, easing closer again.

“Oh?” Vortex tilted his chin up. “How exactly you plannin’ on doin’ that?”

Onslaught laid his hands on Vortex’s hips, leaning down until their battlemasks just brushed. “Mm, my plans haven’t been going well today,” he rumbled, and Vortex shivered, leaning into him. “But I’m sure your devious mind can think of something.”

Vortex laughed at that. “I got a list, Ons.” He unfolded his arms and hooked them casually over Onslaught’s shoulders. “Hope you got some energon stashed around here, because it’s gonna take a while to get through ‘em all,” he purred, optics glinting behind his visor. “A long while.”


End file.
